Stone Scarecrows
by evil Pandora
Summary: A collection of drabbles, mostly original character centric.
1. Potential

**Author's Note/ Please Read:**

The following chapters will be mostly original character centric, based in the Kingdom Hearts (l, Chain of Memories, and ll) reality. Other KH characters may seem out of character based on the impact of _Sila Kisara_, who is best described as an ethereal being.

As far as reviews go, keep in mind I never really intended to ever post this. If you have the time, I'd love to hear how I could improve my writing. Please don't flame.

**Name: **Potential

**By: **evilPandora

**Words: **442

**Rating: **K+

**Rated For: **Implied violence.

**Summary: **Ariels remember when the universe was new.

Keyblades were icky.

Keyblades were disgusting, and savage instruments. They were callous in the hands of their masters, and they were sullen when discarded.

Ariels hated Keyblades. To an extent.

What Ariels really hated (though never mentioned to one another; this was a shared and unspoken hate) was not remembering.

They remembered many things. Composites of countless memories plucked from infinite lifetimes. They remembered a time before humans. A universe without darkness, and full of potential. They recalled the power in amity before the blood and corruption; the wars and golden ages of civilizations long pasted.

But there were things no one could remember too. Like the beginning; the first birth, first life. This was important because they were as gods, they were brought into existence next to the cosmos. They recalled a voice that spoke over them, as large as the sky, beautiful but unforgiving. There were flashes of a battle. An unfathomable battle fought for centuries. There were flickers of sadness, perseverance, and purpose. A power, that voice, greater then them that claimed their blood and sucked the air from their lungs. Somewhere in this mist of carnage (that played behind their closed eyes like spotty, silent films) the Ariels were mostly sure that it had been them who created the Keyblades.

Keyblades were horrid and they were reflections of their creators. Snap shots of a war that could not be won or lost, only endured and forgotten.

Ariels had also forgotten the birth of shadows. Though they knew darkness had come sometime between the first man and the harnessing of Keyblades, none could quite remember when hearts had become unfamiliar, and the night dangerous.

Dangerous for humans, not for them.

……………………………………………………………...

The first time she lays eyes on Riku, Sila Kisara knows this will defiantly be a love-hate relationship.

And she can't help but sigh.

He's gazing intently into the window of the abandoned house in the third district of Travers Town, but his eyes are far away in some distant memory. Sila Kisara understands this sentiment very well.

She hates him immensely right away. He is very, very young and she thinks it highly inappropriate that he is a Keyblade master. In his future she sees consequence and a Keyblade that's furious and painful, a weapon he holds but does not wield.

She loves him completely right away. He is very, very lost, and she had always been a sucker for heartbreak. She sees redemption for him too, and that his Keyblade will be proud and valiant, and that he has all the potential in the world.

She is reminded vaguely of a world of light, before humans.

She sighs again.


	2. MakeBelieve

**Name: **Make-Believe

**By: **evilPandora

**Words: **397

**Rating: **T

**Rated For: **Implied sex.

**Cautions: **Pre-kingdom hearts 1. Uses organization members' real names. (For reference: AeleusLexaeus, IenzoZexion, and DilanXaldin).

**Summary: **Reality often had very little appeal.

Everyone at Radiant Garden knows that Sila Kisara likes to pretend.

She crafts pet names for Ansem's six assistants. Aeleus goes by "Herro", but he just cocks his head to the side and goes with the flow. She calls Ienzo, "Kai" and pats him on the head. He frowns at her. She dubs Dilan, "Jayn", which brings about wide grins and muffled snickers and results in an especially serious eye injury.

She pretends that they are all a family and no one is sure for who she means to benefit; if she thinks b they /b feel like outcasts, or if she herself feels misplaced.

Once in awhile, she pretends to have conversations with empty rooms. Making faces at people who aren't there. Xehanort asks her about this and she sobs and laughs and sobs some more. No one comments the next time she curses a voice no one else can hear.

Ansem tells her she has to attend special schooling at the Hero Guild and she makes a big scene. Soon after, she astonishes Xehanort with a chaste kiss on the lips, and when she pats Ienzo on the head and he makes his face at her, she frowns back at him. Ienzo frowns even harder but for a different reason now.

She pretends she's not coming back.

Of course, Ansem is furious when she b does /b return. He expresses these feelings to his daughter while she sits (with better posture now) and demonstrates a composed disposition, complimented by a bored stare. She a different person now, pretending that she died in a beautiful tragedy after they'd sent her away, and that this is hell. She finds it very uninteresting.

Surprising her in her room, Xehanort pins her against the wall kissing her fiercely, bruising her mouth with his ardor. She kisses him back with just as much passion and soon his hands are frenzied pulling at her clothes. She mummers endearments in foreign languages and whispers for him not to stop.

Later, while they lay together and the fervor fades into sleepy warmth, he holds her close and asks if she thinks this will last. She's half asleep and comfortable but she smiles morosely; her eyes never open when she replies, "_No. None of this could last."_ She pretends to be content with that answer.

He kisses her shoulder and decides to pretend their love is possible.


	3. Checkmate

**Name: **Checkmate

**By: **evilPandora

**Words: **115

**Rating: **K

**Summary: **Slave to the Red Threads, she could not hope to master the game.

"I'm nothing!"

_'How untrue,' _, Sila Kisara scoffs. His conviction is bittersweet and with a visage of boredom, she wordlessly mocks his anger. He was her brother, her lover, now nothing? He is still a pawn to the game. Bound in the web of destiny, tangled in the intricate lace-work of red threads.

_ 'How vain,' _that he thinks he is special.

She is the incarnation of precognition. She reads stars and palms, sets people on their paths and the universe in motion. She knows futures but is not a player in fate's game, and is unable to effect those that are. Never is she the one holding the cards.

She was a Nobody long before he.


End file.
